To Have Forgotten
Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Tessa Brookfield
Word Count :71232
Publication Date :2015-03-26
Series : Letting Go#1
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-4874-0336-2
The mind is a powerful entity. A capsule designed to create, control and contain our deepest thoughts and feelings. Our mind is who we are, it is what we are. Our body merely a shell, an added layer of protection for the fragile entity that controls us.
Tiffany Keller married her high school sweetheart. Together forever. Wrong! When Tiffany’s suspicions are confirmed, she struggles to accept the truth of her husband’s betrayal.
Blaise Cartwright’s wife broke his heart years ago, leaving him bitter and closed off.
Tiffany finds comfort in an acquaintance who quickly becomes a dear friend, who also happens to be Blaise’s father. Blaise couldn’t be more different from his father. John a warm, caring man with a heart of gold. Blaise a cold and cocky man with a ruthless persona. His standoffish demeanor pushes Tiffany to her limit, but the more Blaise tries to push Tiffany away, the stronger her attraction for him grows. She knows there is so much more to Blaise than what he portrays and that is what keeps her coming back.
The unexpected return of Blaise’s ex-wife threatens those that Blaise cares about, including Tiffany.
Tiffany had been warned of her return, but nothing could have prepared her for what she would be faced with.
How far will Blaise go to protect the ones he loves?
How far will Tiffany go to keep a promise she made to a dear friend?
The stakes are high. Emotions are higher. Loyalties run deep and Blaise’s ex has no boundaries. How far will she go to get what she wants?
With the sound of Preston’s car pulling into the driveway, my face heated to a burn. My mind had rapidly gone astray with conjured thoughts of where he might have been. As the clock had ticked, time somehow seemed to have remained still. Already discomforted by the heated blood flowing through my veins, my temperature continued to climb by the minute. I didn’t want to believe it could be true. My heart constantly battling with the overpowering feelings deep in my gut. A never-ending tug of war battle—follow my heart or go with my gut?
Slamming the TV remote onto the dark, wooden surface of the coffee table, my teeth clenched at the possibility it might have left a mark—not realizing my own strength. Strength clearly fueled by my mounting anger.
Livid, from the fact he obviously had forgotten that we had dinner reservations for five-thirty and it was now nearly seven o’clock, I left the room in a huff. I didn’t want to see him when he walked through the door.
I scurried up the stairs to the bedroom, stricken by the cold hard reality of what my gut was trying to tell me. What does it take to call and tell me he’s going to be late? Or here’s an idea, answer your damn phone when I call? I really didn’t think I was asking too much, but the reality was that this was happening more and more. It was always the same thing—his meeting ran late.
There I sat dressed to go out for a nice dinner and instead I was preparing myself for more of his lame excuses, refusing to believe that whatever he would tell me wouldn’t be the truth. Rather, wanting to believe that it was all in my head and it had always been just as he said—a meeting that ran late.
Maybe I’m becoming too needy. Jealous of the time he devotes to his career and wanting that attention given to me.
At the sound of his voice, I pushed off the bed and moved to the bathroom, actually starting to feel embarrassed that he would find me this way. Embarrassed that I’d allowed myself to sit and stew, believing we’d actually go out for dinner. Pfft. I really should know better by now.
“Tiff, where are you?” His voice grew louder as he climbed the stairs, approaching the bedroom.
Moments later the bathroom doorknob rattled.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I knew no matter how hard I tried, I just wasn’t going to be able to stay mad at him. I love him. He was my high school sweetheart. We met in our senior year and here we are eight years later, married. And here I was questioning his loyalty towards me.
“Tiffany, you in there?”
I slowly turned the lock, allowing him to open the door.
He had taken one look at me in my black halter dress and his hand pushed through his wavy, dark brown hair. “Shit! I’m sorry, Tiff. I totally forgot.”
“Let me guess. Your meeting ran late again?” My tone was clipped and laced with coldness as I pushed by him. My gut had been winning over my heart, at the moment, in their never ending battle of tug of war.
“Don’t be this way. I said I’m sorry.” His arm slid out of his grey Armani suit jacket as he followed me into the bedroom.
“You’re always sorry, Preston. Would it be too much to ask, for you to call me?”
He crossed the floor moving towards me, tossing his jacket onto the bed.
Standing before me, his hand slid along the side of my cheek then gently ran down the length of my blonde hair. I wanted to push his hand away, I wanted to stand my ground, but the look in his dark brown eyes was so compelling. They get me every time. I hated him for being able to do this to me, unable to stay angry with him for any significant amount of time.
“I’m sorry, babe. Look at you. You look beautiful.” His thumb ran over my bottom lip, before he lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him.
“Do you want to go out for dinner now?”